A/N: Howdy! We've arrived at the end of the Raider saga. Sort of. At the end of last chapter, I was going for a 'shellshocked' feeling. After everything that happened, Damon's brain was pretty much ready to shut down. That hasn't changed. As a heads-up, there's a... pretty long author's note at the end of the chapter. There isn't any essential information in it, just some thoughts. Anyway, leave a review if you're so inclinded and, as always, enjoy!
Chapter 89: Trust
168.
That's how many people, including the 10 Minutemen on the recon team, 5 of the 6 who made it out on the infiltration team, and 13 of the 17 on the support team, we got back to the farms with.
168.
We'd lost five Minutemen and… I have no clue how many prisoners. I don't think anyone did.
There were a lot of injuries. Gunshot wounds, mostly. More people would die over the coming days and weeks from infection, blood loss, and other complications. We don't have the supplies to treat everyone and maintain our stock. Even with the rudimentary production facilities that had been set up, our resources were limited.
The farms couldn't support that many people coming in all at once, not with the number of refugees they'd already taken in. They'd be moving the healthier escapees as soon as they could.
But my part in all this… was over.
No Raiders chased us from the base, no signs of the Brotherhood tailing us.
No fighting to be done. Not immediately, anyway.
When it comes to these kinds of logistics, I'm useless.
So, instead, I found myself sitting on one of the gabion barriers they made to reinforce their central overwatch tower. There was activity all around me, settlers trying to get as many of the escapees situated as they could. Others were moving supplies to wherever they were needed. Some- well I didn't know what some were doing. Maybe they were going about their night the best they could.
Most who walked by me tried to make it look like they weren't staring. Some even succeeded. Most didn't. I don't know what they were thinking, whether they knew what had just happened. All they know is we showed up with four running and driving trucks packed with almost 200 people. I'm sure some talked with the former prisoners and know what's going on. Most probably haven't.
This will lead to more rumors…
Frankly, I don't think I could care much less. Not after the last week. Not with everything that happened.
It wasn't their fault. They had their own jobs to do. While we were off messing with the Raiders, they still had to continue taking in refugees, growing food, reinforcing their settlement, and preparing for a fight with the Brotherhood. We took a small team, on purpose, so they could focus on what they had to do.
I wanted to start unpacking everything that happened in that base. Something… wasn't letting me. I don't know if it was the same mechanism that kept me from confronting what I thought about the Covenant attack or something new but, every time I tried to think about it, the thoughts slipped from my grasp.
After 10 minutes of trying, I decided it was enough. Sitting there doing nothing while everyone else was handling the mess we'd dropped in their laps wasn't fair.
So I slipped off the gabion and paced through the crowd toward a large structure they'd set up under what was left of the freeway. Right now, it was acting as a triage center and infirmary.
Inside were around half of the people who escaped the base. My feet already knew where to take me. There weren't many beds in the well-lit building. Some people were lying on tables, others were standing, or lying on the floor.
Picking my way through the crowd wasn't easy but, as the mixture of escapees and Minutemen noticed me, they started parting when I passed by. Normally, I think that would irritate me. The only reason it registered now was because it meant I didn't have to worry about running anyone over.
Pain also registered.
The MedX wore off about halfway to the farms and the right side of my body let me know it didn't appreciate what I'd been doing. I've pushed myself to physical breaking points on countless occasions, it's the only way you can know what your limits are. One thing I didn't make a habit of was pushing my body to its traumatic limits.
Apparently, dropping several tons of steel from two stories up on it was flirting with those limits.
Walking was painful and there was nothing I or my armor could do to hide the hitch in my gait as I weighted my right leg. Every step brought stabbing pain to my hip and knee.
That wasn't as bad as my arm, however.
My elbow had started aching but the real pain was from my right shoulder. My undersuit had constricted around it to keep the swelling down. That didn't do much for the agony pouring out of my damaged AC joint. My suit diagnostics hadn't alerted me to any further injury but I doubt I'd have anything resembling full range of motion for the next week.
Once my eyes landed on where I was going through the crowd, that seemed utterly unimportant.
Brenda.
She was one of the few injured who rated a bed, tucked against the back wall. Her head had been wrapped in gauze. The image of her wound, her missing eye, and the hole in the side of her head, was still fresh. A clean dressing wouldn't do anything about that.
Corey was sitting by Brenda's bed in an old folding chair, leaning forward. Like Danse, his normally clean-shaven face was covered in stubble. His eyes were red, fixed on her. They were unfocused as if he was watching her without seeing anything. I hadn't even thought about him until we disembarked at the farms. Nate had made sure he was with them on the truck, even with everything else that was going on.
What did that say about me?
The ex-soldier was standing beside Corey. His shoulders were sagging, he had deep bags under his eyes, and they were beginning to glaze over. He looked exhausted. He'd handled himself well so it was easy to forget, but Nate had spent the last week as a prisoner, fighting for his and the support team's lives. That was before the marathon hand-to-hand match they'd put him through and subsequent escape.
And Cass was there too. Her face was puffy and her eyes were red. She'd been crying. She had become close friends with Brenda since the Minutemen and Railroad allied.
Despite the rush of activity around them, the four seemed to be in their own small sphere of calm. It wasn't a pleasant calm.
The three still had their eyes locked on Brenda when I came to a stop beside them.
What happened…?
That might have been the worst part about this. I hadn't even been there when Brenda had been hit. She'd been shot while facing the Raiders, so it had happened when Buck's group had been covering. The exit wound was small, probably shot by a pistol or submachine gun. If it had been anything more powerful, she wouldn't be alive.
Like I'd noticed back outside the Raider base, the right side of her face was so… serene. It was a stark contrast to what I knew was a bloody, swollen mess under the dressing.
But that isn't what I'm here for. There's something I'm supposed to be doing. I don't get to sit around feeling sorry for myself. I'm not the one seriously injured. Or dead. I'm the reason everyone was put in the position they were. It's their time to recover. It's my job to make sure this doesn't ever happen again.
Even so, I couldn't help but remember that one op… with ODSTs. I'd left them behind to fend for themselves. I finished the mission despite it being compromised but they'd lost people. And now, even though getting everyone out was my mission…
We lost people.
Would it have made any difference if I'd stayed with them? Or would that have just made me feel better about myself?
Yeah right. I had to stop myself from laughing. I hadn't felt bad about leaving those Helljumpers behind. Not in the slightest.
Maybe the question is, then, would I have made the same decision now?
I shook the thoughts away. It isn't my place to wonder about that. Not after the fuck up that was the last 10 days.
Something tugged on my arm and I turned to see, from the ragged, torn clothes, I'd guess a former prisoner. She was small, no taller than Cass, with matted brown hair and a slim, bony face. She was gaunt, clothes hanging off of her. It looked like she'd been with the Raiders for a while.
There were tears in her eyes.
"They told me you're the one who did this", she said in, a high, raspy voice so thick it was barely intelligible. "Thank you so much."
My mouth opened to reply but-
What was I supposed to say? If it hadn't been for the support team being captured, I wouldn't have come to the base. We wouldn't have put an escape plan together. Hell, the main reason we got the other prisoners out was because it would make getting our people out more likely.
Is that true?
… I don't know.
What I do know is I wasn't the only person responsible. Without Deacon and the infiltration team, we wouldn't have had the intel we had, the bombs to act as a diversion, the weapons, or get the main prisoner group out. Without Danse and the recon team, we wouldn't have had covering fire from the hill. Without Dez, we wouldn't have had the Brotherhood diversion. I was just a gun on the ground.
As usual.
"A lot of people did this", I finally replied. "I was just the one who got it started."
She nodded. "What's your name?"
"Damon. Yours?"
"Millie. I- I just wanted to say thank you."
I nodded and she offered me a smile before drifting back into the crowd.
When I turned back to the other four, Nate was kneeling beside Corey, whispering something into his ear. I didn't try to listen in. If the ex-soldier wanted anyone else to hear it, he would be saying it louder.
Once he was finished, he stood. It was labored, like he'd rather drop to the floor than get up. His tired, glassy eyes found me and he nodded toward the far side of the building. At the door.
We filtered our way through the injured escapees and various settlers helping them. I noticed a few more of the looks as we made our way to the front. The few expressions I caught weren't the same ones, suspicion and, occasionally, fear I'd grown accustomed to since arriving here. They were wide-eyed stares one might think were admiration.
"How is she?" I asked once we were outside. It was a dumb question and I knew it was a dumb question. We don't have the equipment to evaluate an injury like that but I- I wanted something.
It was Brenda.
Nate exhaled, slow and long. "Other than a steady pulse and good blood pressure, not much to say." His voice sounded as tired as he looked. "It- uh-" he stopped and rubbed a hand over his face. "It doesn't get easier."
There was no need to ask what he meant by that.
"We'll find her help", I said. Maybe, if Curie managed to help Mac and return, she could treat her.
"Yeah", the ex-soldier replied, "... maybe."
Something caught my attention from the right, motion against the normal flow of foot traffic. When I turned to look, I saw Victor marching toward us, eyes fixed on me.
This… I hadn't told him yet. From the tight-lipped frown and slightly narrowed eyes, I could guess.
"How?" the man asked when he reached us. His voice wasn't accusatory, if anything the question was subdued. It didn't sound like he wanted the answer.
The same way I didn't want to tell him.
"During the pull-out", I replied. The moment played out again, one second he was there, focused, returning fire into the oncoming wave of Raiders, the next, he was on the ground. The blood poured out from between his fingers. "We were covering the retreat, he was hit in the neck. It-" I stopped as I watched the bomb go off again. Then he was gone.
Clearing my throat, I tried again. "It was fatal. He stayed back and detonated a bomb to buy us time."
Victor didn't say anything as I watched him process the information. It occurred to me, I hadn't told Deacon what happened.
What a good 'friend' I am.
"Did it work?" the Railroad operative asked after a few seconds' silence.
"Yeah", I said, nodding. "We reached the trucks with no further casualties."
He'd saved people's lives, doing that. Even knowing he was dying, even knowing he would die, his only concern was protecting people from the goddamn Raiders.
Just like Vince.
Victor's jaw worked up and down, like he wanted to say something else but the words wouldn't come out. Eventually, he stopped, closed his eyes, and took a deep, wavering breath. When he opened them again, they were wet.
"Good. I- I'm glad it meant something." His throat was so tight it sounded like he was fighting to get the words out.
Nate stepped forward and put his hand on Victor's shoulder. "It's alright", the ex-soldier said, voice just as thick with emotion.
A tenuous silence settled over us for a few more seconds.
And then Victor sobbed. He closed his eyes and tears started rolling down the Railroad operative's face.
He wept quietly and Nate pulled him into an embrace. It couldn't have lasted more than 10 seconds, but it felt like every harsh, shuddering breath Victor took extended into eternity. It felt like my own chest was hurting.
Because it probably was.
Once the moment had passed, the two stepped away from each other. When Victor opened his eyes, they were red. "He- we came up together in the Railroad. My parents were agents. They found him a year before they had me. He was my brother, you know?"
"I do", Nate said. He sounded like he was on the verge of crying. "Believe me, I know. I'm an ear if you ever need it."
Victor smiled. "Thanks." He looked up at me. "And thanks for going after them. Thanks for making sure it meant something."
My jaw bound itself shut and my throat tightened so hard, I could barely breathe, let alone reply. So I settled for a nod. I- I didn't want to nod. I wanted to say something.
But I couldn't. My goddamn mouth wouldn't move.
No, that wouldn't fly, not this time. I forced it open, past the almost painful strain from the muscles in my face.
"He made it mean something", I managed. "I couldn't save him."
The Railroad agent closed his eyes again and nodded. "Still. Thanks."
Before any of us could say anything else, he marched past us and into the triage center.
My eyes followed him until he disappeared inside.
How many other people are feeling like that? How many others lost someone because of this?
"Come on", I said as I tore my gaze away from the now-empty doorway. "We need to get ready to head to Sanctuary."
"Copy that", Nate replied. He sounded exhausted again, the emotion that had been there a moment ago, almost gone.
We made our way back to one of the trucks. In the bed were Terry and Castle, both on the floor at the far end, bound. Three Minutemen, including Jake, were in the back with them. Deacon was sitting on the running board under the passenger side door. He didn't move as we approached.
"Damon", Jake said with a nod. "Nate. What are we doing with these two?"
I fixed my eyes on Castle. She still had that smile on her face. That goddamn smile. "Sanctuary. We'll deal with them there."
That's right. That's what my job is. I need to make sure we have the tools and information to keep something like this from happening again.
"Alright. You want us to send anyone with you?"
"No", I replied and shook my head. "We'll send the truck back tomorrow. Do you need any resources to help move people?"
Jake glanced at our prisoners and then back to me. "Nah. Just the truck. We've been settin' up routes with a bunch of the other towns. It'll be tight but we'll make do."
This place has come a long way since I fought the Forged.
"Thanks."
The young man smirked. "Are you kidding me? You keep pullin' miracles off like this, you're gonna have everyone in the Commonwealth in your debt."
I only just stopped myself from grunting. In debt. Right.
Instead, I nodded. "We've got it from here."
"Gotcha", Jake said and jerked his head toward us. "C'mon guys, let's see what we can do to help."
The three of them dropped out of the back of the truck and trotted off toward the center of the settlement.
"Good kid", Nate muttered.
"Yeah", I said as I climbed into the truck's bed. Both of our prisoners were staring at me. Castle looked bemused. Terry looked like he'd shit himself about an hour ago.
"Why are you doing this?" The informant asked. "I- why-"
Really. I marched toward them, the ridges in the bed catching the titanium armored plates around my soles, producing a hollow clang with each step.
"I don't have the energy to pretend, Terry." I stopped in front of the two Raiders, glaring down at him. This asshole is the main reason this all happened and he wanted to play this game? "You're going to tell me everything you know. You'll try to resist, you'll lie, but I'm going to hurt you until you tell me the truth."
That was the goddamn truth. I hadn't gotten to kill Castle, I'd have to settle for this. Because Castle wouldn't resist. She'd tell me everything she knew.
"She knows", I jerked my head at the former Raider leader. "Take your cues from her."
He looked from me to Castle and back. "I don't have anything to do with her."
Crouching, I checked his bindings. His wrists and ankles were still tied tight. Same with Castle.
"You're a terrible liar." I stood. "Save it for the interrogation." I turned to the back of the truck where Nate was still standing. "They're good. Let's get the others and go."
He nodded. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
With that, the ex-soldier left, the sounds of his boots crunching against the dirt receding with each step.
"Damon", Terry pleaded from behind me. "I- I don't know what Castle told you but I'm not with her. She shot me."
Good cover. It would cast doubt on any suspicions of collusion and give them a reason to keep you out of fights. I sat and leaned my head back against the side of the truck. The sky above us was dark now. Between the settlement's moderate light pollution and a slight overcast, I couldn't see many stars. Still, the darkness was a warm blanket. I've had so many eyes on me over the last week, being able to hide, at least a little, was a relief.
A wave of exhaustion hit me. I'd slept a few times during our captivity, but none of it was good. My arm and leg were throbbing, my eyes were heavy, and I felt the vagueness at the edges of my awareness creeping in. If I closed my eyes and relaxed, I'd be out in seconds.
That would have to wait until we were back in Sanctuary.
"Quiet", I replied. While I may not have heard these specific pleas before, I've heard enough to know they all sound the same. There was none of my, admittedly limited, sympathy to spare for him.
My next step was to gag him but the Raider, thankfully, didn't make that necessary. It would have been expending energy I really didn't want to.
A few minutes later, the sounds of footsteps approached the truck and I looked out the back to see Nate walking toward me. With him were Danse, wearing a jacket and hood, Alex, Julian, Melanie, Laura, Blake, the members of the infiltration team… and Cass.
Her eyes were still red and puffy. It looked like she was struggling to hold in her emotions. My jaw clenched again. Brenda was as much her friend as she was mine. Maybe more.
All of them, except for Jackson, climbed into the back with me and the two prisoners, looking as tired as I felt. The former Institute scientist walked to the cab and, a few seconds later, I heard both doors creak open and slam shut. The truck's engine rumbled to life before it began trundling west.
It didn't take more than a few minutes of bumbling across the uneven terrain before most of the truck's occupants were asleep. Nate was sitting across from me. I watched as his eyes drifted shut before he jerked back to alert. That cycle repeated a few times before he noticed I was looking at him.
An exhausted smile slipped across his face. "Don't feel like I should sleep yet."
"I'll keep an eye on them", I said. "You had a long week."
"And you?"
I shrugged. "I can sleep when we get back to Sanctuary."
The frown that took his smile's place looked unimpressed. "You aren't in this alone."
"I know. It'll be fine."
"... Shout if anything happens."
If anything happens? I shot a glance at Castle and Terry. Castle had her eyes closed but her breathing was too fast and shallow for her to be asleep. Terry still looked like he wanted to cry.
"It won't", I said.
Barely 10 seconds later, Nate was asleep too. It left me alone with the two of them. The urge to end Castle right there, with everyone in the truck, was so strong I had to stop myself from moving. All this- it was her fault. She kidnapped my people to draw me in, put them through hell to try and break me, and then had the arrogance to expect me to save her.
The part that pissed me off the most was she was right. I did save her. Not only did I save her, she had the other Raiders convinced I would save her.
And here she was, sitting there, broken arm, held prisoner and all, looking happy with herself.
… Maybe that was my own projection.
Then there was Terry. This bastard trained with the Minutemen. He'd been in Sanctuary long enough for Preston to trust him. He'd been put on the support team.
After all of that, he betrayed them. I- well, I don't have the experience to know what that would be like or, probably, the moral ground to criticize him for it but-
But if he hadn't been on the team, this wouldn't have happened.
They put my people- my friends- in danger just to get to me. All because Castle thought she could break me.
But you didn't, did you? You failed. I won. I broke my people out. I killed who the hell knows how many of your people. We got your prisoners out. We were able to put a Brotherhood strike wing over your head.
And I could tell myself that as much as I wanted, and I did in the 20 minutes it took for us to bounce our way to a road, but it didn't make me feel any better. It did nothing to push away the- the something smoldering deep in my gut.
Eventually, Castle did fall asleep, leaving just me and Terry. Terry whose eyes never left me. They were wide, his mouth was tight, and every muscle in his body was coiled to the point of tearing. His shirt was showing sweat stains under his chest and down his sides.
He was terrified. Which he should have been. I would hurt him. He deserved it. More than most people I've tortured.
Time drifted past as the truck burbled down the road. Once we were on it, I stood and began scanning our surroundings. The last thing we needed was to be caught off guard on the ride home.
Whoever was driving kept a good pace, slow enough to weave between the regular burnt-out cars on the road, fast enough to make it difficult to ambush us without advanced warning.
Where did either of them learn how to drive? That was a question that could wait for another time.
Besides the crunch of gravel under the truck's tires, the rumble of its engine, and the wind against its body, the night was silent. One could call it peaceful
I wouldn't, but that was for a very different reason.
It took less time to get to Sanctuary than it had to get from the farms to the road. 15 minutes after we joined it, I caught a glimpse of the river through the forest to my right.
A few minutes later, the town itself came into view ahead of us. They'd dimmed the lights since the last time I'd been here. In fact, it looked like the only light coming from the island was interior lighting. They didn't have any more spotlights illuminated. So Li's people must have gotten them night vision systems too.
After one last scan of our surroundings, I crouched back down and tapped Nate on the shoulder.
The ex-soldier shot to alert and his hands went for the rifle lying in his lap. It was only once I saw recognition dawn in his eyes that he relaxed.
"Two minutes", I said.
He nodded. "I'll wake everyone else up."
As he did, I stood again and resumed my watch.
With everything that has happened, it felt… strange to not see anything trying to kill us. Between our field trip that ended up with trying to kill Maxson, recruiting the settlements, fighting off Raiders at the Farms, and now this, it felt like being shot at had become the norm.
Well, that was my norm, but not that consistently and not in that much volume. And not without shields.
That was something I'd have to figure out how to address. I can operate without them but it means any punishment I take is going straight into my armor. No more protective barrier to prevent direct physical damage.
Which means my armor degrades even faster than it had been before now.
Nothing I can do about that now. Focus on my current objective.
By the time the truck had trundled its way through the darkened woods, along the river, and to the south side of Sanctuary's bridge, everyone was awake and alert.
Whoever was driving brought the cargo truck to a stop just before they began crossing to the other side. I heard the driver-side door squeak open and watched as Deacon jumped out.
The small door in the gate swung open and five guards streamed through. I recognized all of them but couldn't remember any names. All five were wearing night vision goggles identical to the ones they were using at the Farms.
They spoke for a few seconds before moving back inside. A deep clang sounded from inside the gate and it started swinging outward. Deacon got back in the truck and started forward.
When we passed through the gates and they banged shut behind us, the exhaustion I'd been staving off hit me like a wave. It took every ounce of my energy to keep from collapsing in the back of the truck. It had been a very, very long week.
But it wasn't over yet.
Settlers crowded around the truck as soon as it came to a stop. Too many. Way too many. It felt like they were pressing in on me. My eyes shot from one to the next, then to the street ahead of us. I wanted nothing more than to leap out over the cab and get away from the pressing crowd. They were all talking, some shouting, excitedly.
"They're back!"
"They made it!"
"Holy shit, how'd they do that?!"
"Damon! It was Damon!"
"Who's in the truck?"
"Where's everyone else?"
I slumped to the steel bed of the truck and pushed myself up against the back of the cab.
The absolute last place I wanted to be was in the middle of that crowd but… I didn't have the energy to move. I didn't have the energy to move, let alone push my way through all the people, and questions, surrounding me.
Strange thing is, I couldn't remember the last time I was so tired. As far as physically demanding tasks, this wasn't anything special. I'd done worse during Kathrine and Mendez's real-world sims. This was… just a week's worth of fighting Raiders. I spent most of my time locked in a cell.
That didn't seem to matter. My hands were trembling, my legs were shaking. I wanted to pass out right where I was.
Get up. This isn't over yet.
Right.
Deep breath.
Right.
Too much to do to sleep yet. I still had to debrief Preston and Dez. I still had to interrogate Castle to find out as much as I could about the Raiders. I still had to interrogate Terry to find out who the other mole was…
We needed an update from Preston on what happened while we were gone too.
So much to do-
"Damon", Nate said. He was standing beside me. When had he gotten there?
Looking up, I caught the concern in the ex-soldier's frown.
"I'll handle the talking. Go get some sleep. I've never seen you this tired before."
I blinked. He'd handle the talking? But- this was my operation. I was the one who pushed to do this. I should finish it.
But, when I tried to protest, my mouth wouldn't form the words.
"Get some sleep", he repeated, firmer.
He didn't wait for me to protest. He hauled Terry to his feet, Danse did the same with Castle, and they hopped out of the truck with everyone else. That didn't get rid of the crowd. They were all still packed around it, around me.
Sitting there wouldn't make them go away.
Forcing myself to my feet, I did my best to keep my balance as I walked to the back and dropped to the concrete below.
It was only a meter or so but the fall felt like it lasted an hour.
My armored boots hit the ground hard enough to produce a deep thud. I could feel the concrete vibrate in response to the impact. That was… uncharacteristic. My legs were dead. I didn't have enough energy to cushion the landing.
More voices, more questions. I didn't listen. They could wait until- well- until someone else answered them. Right now, the only thing I could think of was sleep. Finding some quiet, isolated corner and passing out.
Nate was surrounded by onlookers. Same with the others from the support team. More crowded around me. I didn't even have the energy to be uncomfortable. I pushed my way through the crowd and toward the north side of Sanctuary. A few stragglers followed but I didn't really care. They were just excited, after all.
My legs did their best to carry me across the bridge and up the hill. Eventually, the half-dozen settlers figured out I wasn't in the talking mood and fell back. They probably went to join the mob in town.
Through the rusted gate that permitted entrance to the Vault's perimeter and past the guards keeping watch from their armored lookouts, not unlike the ones at the farms, I found a group of steel shipping containers the settlers had yet to break down entirely. I leaned against one and slid to the ground, my legs almost completely devoid of further energy.
Then I was out.
X
Light filtered through my eyelids and I jerked awake. I had half-expected to 'wake up' in another one of those dreams but no. When I opened my eyes, I was looking out over the hill and down into Sanctuary. The sun had just peeked over the horizon and trees to the east.
My head was fuzzy like I'd been given a sedative and it hadn't-
The entire right side of my body was on fire.
A groan escaped my throat through gritted teeth that I just managed to control before it became a shout. My arm and leg were paying me back for overusing them with soft tissue and ligament injuries.
So I sat there, jaw clenched, watching the sun slowly climb into the sky, as I did my best to force the pain down. They were injuries that would heal on their own, given time. The pain was just redundant information at this point. I'll need to be careful with them for a while so I don't reinjure them.
Somehow, I doubt I'll have that opportunity.
After what felt like ages, I got the pain under control and climbed to my feet. The guards, for what it's worth, had left me alone the night before. That was a welcome change from all the settlers down in Sanctuary who'd tried to mob us the instant we pulled in.
I grimaced. Yeah, had I not been exhausted to the point of dropping, that would have been incredibly uncomfortable.
When I walked around the shipping containers, five guards were milling around in the perimeter. Three were in the lookouts I'd noticed last night. Two were closer to the Vault's cog-shaped elevator entrance. All of them looked at me as I emerged.
Were… they the same ones I passed on my way up here last night? I'd been so tired, I hadn't registered their faces.
"Good morning, Damon", one of the guards standing near the elevator platform said.
Oh. It was Owen.
"Go-" my voice cracked as I tried to respond. I cleared my throat
"Good morning."
The bald man nodded. "Welcome back."
Even I could tell there was more he wanted to say. It seemed, as I've come to notice, the people in Preston's circle tend to be more aware of my… habits. So he didn't ask.
"Thanks." I didn't know what else to say. 'Sorry for jumping out at you'? 'How's everyone doing?' 'Where's-'
"Look, uh, I know you probably want to go talk with Preston", the armorer said, voice low. "But… I wanna hear it from you. Who did we lose?"
I blinked. Who did we lose? I… guess that's fair.
"Vince, Kim, Able, one of the former Institute people, and-" Wow. I- I didn't know the last guy's name. "One other."
Owen's eyes got wide. "Vinny and Able- they're dead?"
Dammit. Goddammit. My hands balled into fists.
"Yeah", I replied, nodding. "They are. A few more wounded." I didn't know what Preston planned to tell everyone after the debrief. The last time Sanctuary was attacked, he let everyone know who died. I was gone before anything else could happen but I wouldn't be surprised if they held a service for them.
But I didn't want to do something wrong.
"Don't spread that", I said. "Let Preston handle it."
Owen nodded. "I-" he took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a heartbeat. "I got it. Thanks for letting me know."
Thanks for letting me know. I stopped myself from reacting. Thanks? For letting him know I let two of his friends get killed?
Relax. He didn't mean it like that.
And I knew he didn't but… I still need to be better. I let people get hurt. I let people die and now the people here are hurting for it.
Fuck me, how did this happen? A year ago, this wouldn't have mattered to me. Even if I had been, somehow, convinced to go after the support team, I sure as hell wouldn't have been this affected by a few deaths. We recovered most of them, punching the Raiders in the mouth on the way out. A better than 75% survival rate in a situation that, for most, probably wouldn't have been survivable.
Despite all that, I feel like I failed.
How did that happen? We won. Castle didn't get me. I got most of my people out. And I still feel like I lost.
Never thought I could change this much.
Considering what's happened over the last six months, It isn't a surprise.
"You're welcome", I said. "Sorry I couldn't bring them back."
It feels like I keep apologizing to everyone.
"Yeah… I know."
The Minuteman bit his lower lip before he opened his mouth again. Whatever he wanted to say stopped before it could make itself known. His mouth worked open and shut a few times before it slowly drifted closed one more time. I thought that was the end of it and started turning to head down the hill when Owen made one more try.
"Damon", he said, "I don't want to sound like I'm… trying to make you feel weird but, if you couldn't get them out, no one could." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "It's crazy to me you got anyone out. I just- is it selfish I wish they hadn't been the ones who died?" Owen opened his eyes and looked at the woman standing next to him. "Does that make me an asshole?"
She shook her head and took his hand. "No." Her voice was soft, almost inaudible at this distance.
The two of them turned to hug one another, seeming to forget about me. It felt strange to stand there and watch so, instead, I started down the hill.
How many people were feeling the same thing? I know Corey was, even if Brenda was still alive. Cass would be too. With a wound like that… it would be so easy for something to happen and Brenda to die, even with real medical attention. She wasn't getting anything like real medical attention.
I reached the bottom of the hill and crossed the bridge. I'd been so caught up in my own head, I hadn't thought about what had happened last night when we arrived. The settlers in town had nearly mobbed me when I got out of the truck.
As soon as I was across the bridge, and a few of the Minutemen noticed me, they began flocking in my direction.
Why? Just- leave me alone.
More followed the first wave and I made for the armory. Hopefully, Preston would be inside.
And he was. Along with a Nate whose red eyes and unkempt hair made him look like he'd just woken up and Desdemona.
Preston's customary, cheery greeting was absent. The look on his face was sour. His hat and jacket, two things I'd come to associate with the man as closely as I do my armor with me, were missing too.
"Hello Damon", the Minuteman leader said. "How are you feeling?"
"Sprained AC joint, ligament and soft-tissue strains in my elbow, hip, and knee", I recited. It was my status as a combatant. That's what usually mattered.
"So 'in pain'?"
"Yes", I replied. "A lot."
Preston nodded in acknowledgment. "Do you want anything for it?" The tone of his voice told me he only asked out of courtesy.
"No", I shook my head. The MedX was necessary to operate in the environment I'd been in yesterday. I wasn't going to become reliant on drugs to do my job. Especially not if it would lead to further damage.
"That's what I figured." He nodded and I noticed the deep bags under his eyes, his shoulders were slumped, and his posture was stooped. He looked as exhausted as I felt. "Nate told us about what happened over the last week. You continue to amaze…"
Why do people keep saying things like that?
I didn't give the question voice. I knew the answer. I knew why.
That didn't make me feel any better. Why was that?
"Do you need anything from me?"
Dez decided it was her turn to enter the conversation.
"Yes. We'd like your assessment of their forces, their combat capabilities, their armaments, and their infrastructure. Nate told us about their stores of equipment and running vehicles. What did you make of everything you saw there?"
What did I make of it? "They're heavily reliant on their leadership. The average Raider is still a Raider. When they didn't have time to prepare, or were forced into uncomfortable situations, they reverted to what they knew. They have their central leadership in a hardened bunker with their best people, weapons, and equipment guarding them. I don't think anyone's breaking in there without being prepared to lose a lot of their own people."
The words came tumbling out of my mouth. I continued describing my experiences while in the base; their numbers, their tactics, my estimates on their various levels of effectiveness, and their weaponry. It was all so… normal. This is something I've done- I don't know, hundreds of times?
But it didn't feel normal. It felt, like at the end of our retreat, I was watching someone else handle my body. I wasn't in control, I was along for the ride. I didn't even notice it was over until I realized I had stopped talking.
All three of them were staring at me. All three of them were frowning. How long had I been talking? How much had I said?
"Is there a problem?" I asked.
Nate shook his head. "No, but I would have brought a notebook. Where's Isaiah when you need him?"
"Sorry."
The ex-soldier shrugged. "Don't worry about it. You've got it in your head. We all still need some time to decompress. I don't think the Raiders will be making moves for a little bit and the Brotherhood- well-" he looked at Desdemona. "Are they or the Institute doing anything?"
She nodded. "They are but, like you said, you all need some time. Take it. Get some real food in you, get some rest, talk with someone if you need to. I don't doubt the last week was rough on everyone involved." The Railroad leader took a long, deep breath. "It was tough sitting on my hands, I can't imagine what it was like being there."
Debrief… they were going to wait to debrief us in full. They were going to wait to put me back in the field when everyone was still active.
That doesn't mean I can't go back into the field.
… No.
Are they wrong about me needing a little time?
… No. But whatever time I'm not out there is time I can't get back.
And time I spend in the field now would be a waste. I need to get my head back on straight, recuperate, and get back in it when I'm effective.
That didn't mean they had to sit around doing nothing, though.
"Have you talked with Castle?" I asked. "She'll be a better source of information than me."
"We have…" Preston mumbled. "Doesn't look like she's gonna be too forward with us."
My jaw tightened. She wasn't going to be 'forward'? "What does that mean?"
"She isn't saying much", Dez replied. "She wants to make sure we have a reason to keep her alive."
That fucking- Castle was responsible for all of this. ALL OF IT. And now, after I bring her back here alive, she wants to hold information out so she still has leverage?
"Where?" I demanded.
There was a heartbeat's pause before Nate answered.
"The Vault. Locked in with Terry."
I turned and marched toward the door. She didn't get a goddamn choice. The only reason I didn't kill her in the base was her information. She's going to give it to me, or I'm going to tear it out of her.
"No", I heard Nate whisper behind me. I don't know why he said that or who he said it to. My only concern was Castle.
A handful of settlers were waiting outside. I continued past them and turned right to head toward the bridge. The only reason I registered the footsteps following me was because that's what I was trained to do. They didn't mean anything. Just like Nate saying "no". It was background noise. A distraction.
Back across the bridge and up to the Vault's perimeter. Owen was still standing guard. He and the others stopped the settlers that had trailed me up the hill.
The cog-shaped elevator was at the top. As soon as I stepped onto it, a groan rumbled through my boots and into my legs and the platform began descending.
It was a trip I'd taken a dozen times.
This one felt as if it took longer than all of those combined.
The wide opening swallowed me and the elevator. A few moments later, I was completely shielded from the morning sun. Lights had been set into the walls around the platform. Part of me registered they hadn't been there the last time I'd come down here.
A much larger part of me didn't care.
Castle's still trying to play this game, as if she had any cards left in her hand. No- no she doesn't get to do this. Not after everything she put everyone through over the last 10 days.
By the time the platform had drifted its way to the bottom of the shaft, I was almost ready to jump from it. The emotion was irrational, I knew that. The 20 seconds it took me to get down here wouldn't change how quickly I'd get the information out of Castle enough to matter.
But, just like a large part of me didn't care about the elevator lights, none of me cared about that.
A deep thud sounded when the elevator hit its stops. Several guards were on the far side of the Vault's large opening. Two were standing by gun emplacements. The rest of the platform had been reinforced with sandbags and armored plates. It wasn't the school's fatal funnel, but it would be tough to get by.
The bridge wasn't extended, probably to make ingress or egress harder. The moment one of the guards saw me, he hurried over to the panel and slapped the control to extend it.
"Where's Castle?" I demanded again once I reached the group of guards.
One of them, a taller man with a long, narrow scar running along the left side of his chin I recognized from when I performed a mock attack on the base, stepped toward me.
"This way", he said and turned for the door leading further into the Vault.
There was another group of guards on the other side with a similar defensive line as the first group.
The Minuteman led me past them. I was vaguely aware of the five nodding as I walked by.
20 seconds I've been down here and these people had already shown more understanding of proper defensive principles than the Raiders. And we'd been beaten by them, at least temporarily. We'd lost people to them.
All because of Castle.
Through another door and to where Danse and Haylen had been held when they were prisoners here, there was another four Minutemen standing guard outside the door. My escort keyed it open with a gentle whoosh.
And there, sitting inside, was Castle. She had a cast on her broken arm and was restrained to one of the half-dozen beds with a long band that wrapped around her wrists.
She smiled that same, empty smile she had almost every time she'd seen me.
Until she lost control.
That was it, wasn't it? She thought she was back in control. She thought, because I brought her here, that I'd done what she wanted, she was back in control.
"Damon", Castle said. She said my name with the same content, almost snide drawl she had when I was at the base. Even though she was a prisoner, she was comfortable.
"This Vault is incred-"
"I brought you back for the information you could give me about the Raiders", I snapped.
Her smile didn't move. "And Itold dear old Nate and your little Minuteman friends I'd give it to them as they needed it."
I stepped further into the room. "You don't get to make that call."
"Don't I? I mean, of course, you could torture it out of me." Castle's smile broadened. "I'm sure that threat last night wasn't just for show." She jerked her head to the side and, for the first time, I noticed Terry. He was huddled onto a bed in the corner, arms likewise bound to the bed, staring at me.
Torture? She wants me to torture her? "Yes", I hissed and marched toward the former Raider boss.
That goddamn smile still didn't change.
"But how do you know the information I give you is right?" she said as I neared. "You have to remember, I know what you know about their operations. The only things you can verify are things I don't mind giving up." Something new appeared in her dead eyes. As they narrowed ever so slightly, it made her look… amused.
"And you wouldn't want to act on unverified information again, would you?"
I stopped in front of her, just within arm's reach.
"Unverified information", I repeated. It wasn't a question, I knew exactly what she was talking about.
"Oh yes." Castle smiled even wider. "You can't trust any information you can't verify. And any information you get from me under duress might be false. Wouldn't want to stumble into another trap."
Stumble into another trap.
The Raiders she- no, not her. Johnson- whoever that was. The Raiders Johnson sent out with bad intel about the attack on the farm. Not that the attack would happen, but that was the primary target. What set this entire thing in motion.
My mind took me back to that fight. People died there too. I could still hear Brent'svoice, his scream. I don't even know how many others were killed in that attack.
Then I was back in the Gauntlet, fighting the prisoners- prisoners they'd dressed as Raiders. Trying to get me to kill Vince and Julian.
The image of Vince, frozen in time, pointing at Julian as the collar detonated around his neck.
"You're telling me I can't trust anything you said", I said, voice as dead as Castle's smile.
Or at least I thought it was, because, for the first time since the door opened, her smile faltered.
"Not anything", the Raider replied. "Just what you get out of me through torture. You know how that goes, torture is such an unreliable method for gathering information. Especially if you're working with someone who has some… experience with it."
Julian's face, lost and confused, when I turned around.
Vince's blood covering my chest and arms.
"Yeah." I nodded. "I know. I've tortured a lot of people."
Wendy's eyes fixed on me as the 10mm bullet put a hole in her head. She'd died because of Castle but-
But I'm the one who pulled the trigger. I'm the one who killed her.
Castle relaxed again, the wrinkles in her forehead smoothing out and her shoulders unwinding. "So have I. It can be such a messy ordeal, especially with a difficult subject. And then when they give you bad information…"
Julian again. He was angry at me when I tried to help him up afterward.
"You're saying you'd lie to me if I tortured you."
Wendy hadn't been the only prisoner I'd killed in that ring either. And then Castle tried to force my hand with Nate. Put him in the same position Julian had been in. Make me kill- no. Make me choose to kill someone else who didn't deserve it. Not from me at least.
She tried to use someone I care about, push him to the point he broke to try and break me. Then, when that didn't work, she put his life on the line again.
The Raider nodded. "And you'd have no way of knowing what was a lie and what wasn't." Her smile was still plastered on her face. "With no way of making sure it isn't another trap, that information would be useless, and torturing me would have been a waste of time."
And then the escape. We lost four more people. I don't know- I doubt anyone will ever know how many prisoners died.
My mind played the scene back. Able's death. The shot. Him diving to the ground. Blood pouring from the hole in his neck when I turned him over. The smile when I left.
The detonation.
"How can I trust anything you tell me?" I asked.
"Well I trusted you, didn't I? The least you could do is return the favor."
Brenda.
My hands balled into fists and I felt my shoulders tense. I winced as my right arm panged in protest.
Brenda. After what she'd been through over the previous few days, then dealing with all that, just to be shot in the head on the way out.
Her expression when I got back to the safe house, after the assassination attempt, how hurt and confused she'd looked. Then our conversation at the school.
I shook my head. "No. You used me to get out. If I didn't kill you, they would have. You took a chance."
The library, holding The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
"The Tin Man reminds me of you because he's heartless and he's trying to find one."
"Thank you for trying to find your heart. I think you'll understand if you read it."
"That seems-"
"No", I interrupted. "I'm right and both of us know it."
Seeing her sitting against that car, a hole in her head where her left eye was supposed to be. That happened because of Castle. She was there because of Castle.
And I hadn't been good enough to get them out.
"Are you saying you don't trust me?" Castle asked. There was something strange about the question like she found the idea offensive. "I never lied to you."
Castle may not have been the one to pull the trigger, but she's still the reason Brenda-
A knot formed in my throat and I fought to swallow it.
Brenda is one of Cass's role models, she's Corey's partner. She got wounded on my watch. I don't get to do this. Not now.
Same with Vince and Able. They meant so much more to other people than they did to me. I let them die.
"No, you only captured my friends, threatened their lives, tried to make me kill two of them, blew one of them up, made me kill four people to keep another one alive, and tried to force me to kill ten others to do the same thing." The words came spilling out so fast I wasn't sure I was the one saying them. "And while escaping from the situation you put us in, four more died, and five were wounded."
Castle frowned. "Damon, please. You chose to put yourself in that position, not me. I didn't try to capture you, I knew I couldn't. But I knew this- this sense of responsibility to these people would bring you to me. I was trying to help you. These people… They aren't worth your time and attention. They don't know you like I do. I know someone who was bred to fight. I've been around born and raised killers all my life. I've gotten the better of every. Last. One."
She smiled again. "Except for you. You're the only killer I haven't been able to beat. All that does is prove to me you're what I know you are. All I want is for you to accept it. You don't have to care about these people, this anger and pain you're feeling will all go away when you accept they're meaningless to you. Really, what can they offer? They couldn't get themselves out, almost 20 of them. They had to wait for you to come and save them. How many times has something like that happened? How many more times will it happen? How many times are they going to make you injure yourself to save them? I'm offering you the chance to be free of that. To do what you and I both know you're meant to do without needing to worry about this dead weight."
As she fell quiet, eyes drilling into my visor, smile still on her face, the only thing I could see was Brenda.
We were standing in that small office. She was holding my hand, smiling up at me.
Then Cass. We were sitting together in the bunker after- after they accepted me back. Even with how I'd betrayed them. Her head was against my shoulder
"You're a big softie."
Julian, in the Prydwen, crying in my arms.
Nate, back in the supply closet. "Nah, it felt like you needed that and- you deserve it after everything." He, I don't know, he broke me loose. Finally. Even with what we'd been through. Even after I'd killed someone he cared about. Grant.
I saw his face in my scope through the gloomy, dark, crumbling hospital hallway. I felt my finger tighten around the trigger and watched as half of his head turned into a splatter on the wall to his left.
There were so many more.
That couldn't be fake. It couldn't. What I felt when I saw Brenda- when I watched Able die.
The relief when I found them all alive at the start of everything, even if they were being held prisoner.
It.
Was.
Real.
Castle would never give up.
But I was never going back.
Then everything went blank as if someone had flipped a switch. My head was quiet.
I grabbed the plastic restraint and snapped it loose from the bedframe with a jerk.
"Damon?" someone asked from behind me. It was the guy who brought me in here. I didn't even know his name. Brenda had mentioned it at one point but- I didn't remember.
"Come with me", I said to Castle.
Her eyes widened ever so slightly. She kept that damn smile on her face.
The Raider slowly stood from the bed, favoring her right side.
"Damon", the man repeated, this time with more authority.
Turning to him, I nodded. "I need to talk with her alone."
"We can leave the room." There was a small furrow in his brow and he was squinting up at me. His expression wasn't quite as certain as his voice.
"No", I replied. "I'm taking her. If anything happens, it's on my watch."
"I'll need to talk with Preston."
As much as I wanted to be irritated, this guy was just doing his job. If he's in charge down here, these are his prisoners.
"I'm taking her up. You can talk with him on your own time."
"Damon, I understand-"
"What's your name?"
The man blinked. "Zach."
"Zach. I'm not going to fight you over this. I am taking her."
Silence smothered the room as Zach stared at me, clearly unsure of what to do. He had his responsibility and he was trying to fulfill it. But he and I both knew there was nothing he could do to stop me.
And I wasn't lying. Regardless of what he wanted, I was taking Castle.
The Minuteman took a deep breath and stepped aside. "Alright."
The word ground out through clenched teeth. He sounded both defeated and frustrated.
It wasn't his fault. None of this was. It was mine. It was my fault everyone had been in the positions they were in. It was my fault people had died. And now I'm forcing his hand because- well because I'm a SPARTAN and he isn't and, sometimes, it comes down to who is more physically powerful than the other person.
"I'm sorry", I muttered as I led Castle out of the door and into the hall. The guards there watched us leave.
Castle, for her part, had fallen completely silent. I hope she was scared. I hope she was terrified. She only cares about herself. Everyone else is just… an item to be exploited. She doesn't want me to 'let go' for my sake, she wants to use me like ONI did.
I glanced over my shoulder at her. The Raider was staring at me, her smile replaced by a thin-lipped frown.
Zach was marching behind her.
We walked back through the entrance and across the catwalk to the elevator.
ONI would have loved to have someone like her. The thought made me hate her even more.
That deep-seated smolder was still there, building from the back of my head. I knew what it was. It wasn't new. I've been living with it for a long time. Probably ever since the attack.
It's directed somewhere new now. There was no Covenant here.
There was Castle, though.
Both of the other occupants on the platform stared at me, a nervous energy buzzing around each. Neither spoke as we neared the surface.
The closer we got, the tighter I wound.
Castle. She'd been so confident and snide when I was there. She took pleasure in doing what she did, in killing good people like Vince.
She took pleasure in tricking me into killing those prisoners, in knowing she forced me to choose Julian over people who had nothing to do with this.
The platform jerked to a stop.
"Go", I commanded and pointed toward the south end of the Vault's perimeter. The guards up here, including Owen, were staring too.
"Damon…" Zach said, voice low.
"Go", I repeated to Castle.
The Raider looked at me, then Zach.
He can't help you. "I'll break your other goddamn arm if you don't start walking."
Something I hadn't seen on her face before flashed across it. Her eyes grew wide for a moment, her lips pressed into a narrow line, and the muscles in her face tensed.
Yeah, she was terrified.
But she started plodding forward.
"Go talk with Preston", I said to Zach before going after Castle.
Six sets of eyes were locked on me. I could feel every one of them. None of the Minutemen tried to follow.
Castle's pace was slow and, as we moved further away from the Vault, it slowed even more. By the time it was 200 meters south of us, she was barely moving at a crawling pace.
Then the Raider stopped.
She turned to face me. "I'm not going any further." The Raider tried to keep her voice under control but there was still a tremor that hadn't been there down in the Vault.
I stopped directly in front of her.
Using my size, or my physical abilities, as a SPARTAN to intimidate or coerce people isn't something I make an active habit of, outside interrogation. That doesn't mean I'm not aware of how nervous or outright scary it is to be faced with a 225-centimeter tall power-armored supersoldier.
Castle though- her I wanted scared. She deserves to be scared. She was barely tall enough to reach midway up my chest, thin enough that her entire frame was narrower than my chest, weighed less thana third of what I do without my armor, and spent the last week and a half trying to force my hand at every turn. Well, now she's out of plays. There is no threat she can level at me anymore, no more people she can hold over my head. No, all that's left is her and me.
"Damon-"
"Shut the fuck up", I snapped. "Talk. All you do is talk. You manipulate people. You play with them. You don't care about me or what I feel, the only reason I interest you is because of what I can do. You want that."
She shook her head so hard I thought she might hurt herself. "You don't have the moral high ground and don't pretend you don't know that!"
"I don't care. I don't care about moral high grounds, I don't care about your attempts to manipulate me now."
"I'm not trying to manipulate you."
I barked a laugh. It wasn't friendly. "Bullshit. You're scared. You don't have any power in this situation and you don't know what to do. That's why you'd try such a pathetic tactic."
"I do have power. You need what I know and-"
"No, I don't", I interrupted, taking my turn to shake my head. "I have no reason to trust anything you say. Even if I did, I don't care."
Her wide-eyed, tight-lipped terror changed in an instant. It went from fear to rage. She stepped forward, closing what little distance was still separating us.
"You just don't fucking get it, Damon. I've been a Raider my entire life. You don't know what that means. I survived by manipulating people. I got good at it. I am good at it. That's what you have to do in this world and I won't be lectured by you or anyone else about how I made it this far I-"
"And I survived by killing people!" I shouted. "You wanted that. Your only goal with all of this", I gestured around us before jabbing her in the chest with a finger, "was to get that. Because you wanted power. People died- I killed innocent people- for that."
"You could have that power but you choose not to!" Castle sneered. "You could do anything you want here, control anyone through the fear of what you can do and you choose to waste your time worrying about nobodies who only make you vulnerable. It's a choice,Damon. Nothing is forcing you to do it. I didn't make you come to the base, I didn't force you to kill those prisoners. You could have chosen to let those nobodies die. I won't apologize for trying to do what you're too much of a coward to."
"You're right, I could have left them. I did choose to come to your base to get them out." I cocked my head at the tiny woman. "Caring about people isn't the coward's choice."
"Caring about nobodies", she hissed.
"Those 'nobodies' are the reason I can care about people. You won't understand that, and I don't care enough to make you." I huffed. "What are you without an army of Raiders to back you up? At least they", I stabbed the same finger toward the settlement to our south, "are trying to build something. You and me- we're good at breaking things. I can do that on my own. They don't need to break things to be someone. You do. You can't do that without other people. So now you're a nobody."
And they're the reason I'm trying to be something more.
Castle didn't respond. She only glared up into my visor. It was a show. Her eyes were too wide and her mouth pressed too thin for it to be real anger.
"Nothing?" I asked. This was supposed to be her game, not mine.
Fear can do that.
"We'll see", she said, voice barely above a whisper. "You're acting like I've lost- like this is over. I will win. I don't care what you say or do."
"You're our prisoner now. What are you gonna do?"
A strange, razor-thin smile spread across her face. "I know how to get to you."
She knows how to get to me? Everything- everyone flashed through my head all at once.
Then my mind went blank again.
My right hand launched forward and I slammed my open palm into her chest. Whatever she was going to say next was cut off by a wheezing, strangled shout as she was launched off her feet.
The small woman crashed to the ground and grabbed at her chest as I stalked forward. She tried to push herself away from me, using her legs and broken arm. The only sound she was able to make was a sharp, rattling wheeze.
"I know how to get to you."
When I reached her, Castle was clawing at the ground, a soft whimper audible past her body's attempts to pull in air using a spasming diaphragm. I stuck my boot under her rib cage and flipped her onto her back. The Raider groaned. It was deep and strained. She must have been in a lot of pain.
"Open your eyes", I snapped.
After a few heartbeats, she did, squinting against the agony.
I dropped to my knees and straddled her. The instant I did, her good arm scrambled for something she could use as a weapon. Several rocks would work within reach.
Her gaze never left my visor. There was desperation in those normally dead eyes.
She finally grabbed one and her arm lashed out toward me. I knocked it aside hard enough I felt her wrist snap against the titanium plate over my hand.
The 'scream' she let out was more of a breathless wheeze.
Her wrist and hand were probably broken but that wasn't enough. Not enough.
Wrapping my hand around her left shoulder, I dug my thumb into the joint and squeezed.
This time, the scream was closer to the real thing.
As the seconds ticked by, I clamped my hand down harder and harder. I could feel the joint spread to make room for my thumb. Muscle was stretching, ligaments were tearing, and cartilage was being destroyed as I crushed her shoulder. Castle was thrashing under me but she might as well have been trying to move a building.
Eventually, I felt something in her shoulder give and the ball separated from its socket. At the same time, the top of her humerus crumbled into dust. The only thing that kept me from tearing her arm off was the skin and what was left of the muscle. Castle threw her head against the ground, opening her mouth to scream.
But I clamped my other hand around her mouth.
The pain must have been indescribable. I'd never suffered an injury like that but I could imagine what it might be like.
And it wasn't enough. Not. Even. Close.
It wasn't enough for what she did.
Able was dead. I'd never get to thank him for what he did.
Brenda was injured, maybe fatally. If she died without me getting the chance to make things right-
My breath hitched in my throat.
If I never got to talk with Brenda again-
The same images of my family flashed through my head. My mom and dad. My sister. My friends and neighbors. Everyone. They were all dead. All of them. I'd never see them again. I could never go back and fix it. No matter what I did.
They are gone and, no matter how strong I am, I'll never be able to change that.
I screamed. The smoldering rage that had been living in the back of my head for a decade and a half bloomed to fill- everything. Every ounce of it came rushing out.
That's right. I'll never be able to fix what's broken. And that isn't even my fault.
It isn't even my fault.
There's nothing I ever could have done.
And Castle tried to take everything away from me again. She tried to make me turn my back on the people here who-
My hand pulled away from her mouth and wrapped itself around her throat.
Then I squeezed again.
Castle'sscream was cut off for the second time, and her eyes bulged wide. Her mouth jerked open as far as it could and her thrashing redoubled.
With one arm broken and the other destroyed, she couldn't do anything but writhe as I squeezed harder and harder. I felt her trachea collapse, the muscles under my hand clench, then give way. I felt things tear. Her neck narrowed under the ever-increasing force of my grip.
A dozen seconds after I started, her eyes rolled up and she went limp.
I didn't stop. I kept squeezing until I felt her spine.
It wasn't enough. She was too- fucking fragile.
I pulled her up and slammed her back into the ground.
And then I did it again.
And again.
She'd tried to take people from me. She tried to do it again- tried to do what the Covenant did.
Slam. I released her throat and launched a closed fist at her head. The strike was powerful enough to cave her skull in like paper mache. Blood and brain exploded from what was left.
NOT ENOUGH!
Another scream. She had taken people from me.
Just like the Covenant. Just like ONI.
And there was nothing I could do for them. It didn't matter I was a SPARTAN. It didn't matter I'd killed dozens of Raiders. It didn't matter we'd escaped. It didn't matter Castle was dead.
They.
Are.
Gone.
My throat clenched. I couldn't breathe- I couldn't think.
I scrambled for my helmet and tore it off.
No air. I couldn't breathe. What was happening to me?
After what felt like an eternity, I managed to force a choked, gasping breath down my throat.
Before I knew what I was doing, I slammed the top of my helmet down on what was left of Castle's head. It sent bone and bloody bits of gray matter scattering again.
A second sob.
Then my vision went blurry.
And I felt hot, heavy tears stream down my face.
They're gone. All of them. Everyone I've lost. I- I can't fix it. How can I not fix it? I'm a SPARTAN.
I fell backward onto the hard-packed dirt ground. The thud reverberated up my spine and into the base of my skull.
It doesn't matter what I do, I can't fix it. I've never been able to fix it.
Have I been wasting all this time?
Tears continued rolling down my face and I shoved myself away from Castle's mutilated corpse. I didn't stop until I felt my back hit a tree.
Why didn't I recognize that sooner? I- I knew I couldn't fix it. I've said it before. But I didn't believe it, did I?
My eyes drifted past my boots to Castle. She was wrong. That's something I knew from the start.
But I'd been wrong too.
"Damon", a voice came from my left. It was low and soft, like whoever said my name didn't want to startle me.
It took me a few seconds but I managed to pull my eyes away from the corpse and look to my left.
Nate. He was standing beside a tree a few meters from me. The ex-soldier was wearing a deep frown, fidgeting with the bandage on his mutilated hand.
He looked from me to Castle's body and back.
Then he nodded.
There was something… different about the way he did it. There wasn't just understanding, I didn't know what it was. It was just something… more.
He knew. He didn't need to say anything.
He knew.
A/N: okay, so this author's note is gonna be a little… unusual. I generally don't respond to reviews in the chapters. Those of you who have left reviews know I'll DM, but I don't like singling reviews out. One review I received, I feel, is necessary to address. To be clear, I'm not calling out the person who left it. This is a good opportunity to discuss what makes this story what it is, imo.
The last few chapters (as well as several upcoming chapters) have had a significant amount of action, especially last chapter. But what makes this story special, to me, is that said action is a vehicle to progress the story and that story is centered around characters. Most of it is told from Damon's perspective so we see the most progression from him. That being said, everyone in this story goes through their own trials.
Specifically with Damon, however, his ability to fight, and his role in the Minutemen, aren't what make him important to the story. I'd argue those things aren't even the most important parts about him as a character. I know when a lot of people read Halo fics (myself included) they want to see SPARTANs being badasses. That doesn't make a character, though. What makes Damon who he is are the experiences he's had, the emotions he has, the things he goes through, how he responds to them, and how he grows as a person because, at the end of the day, he is a person, even if it's just in a story.
So, to be frank, when I get feedback the story focuses too much on emotion instead of action and excitement, I think that misses the point. Anyone can write an action scene, where characters go on a rampage and massacre anything and everything in their way. That isn't what makes a story with staying power and it isn't Damon a compelling person.
The essence of this story is it's characters and, while I can admit I don't write the best ones out there, I put everything I have into them. Are they perfect? No, of course not. Are my characterizations or portrayals perfect? Absolutely not. But my personal favorite moments are things like the scene between Damon and Julian on the Prydwen, many of the quiet moments of companionship and understanding between Nate and Damon, Perkins's conversations with Nate or Damon, Nate trying to help Brenda during their escape from Boston, Damon trying to make amends with Brenda, etc. They are, to me, the point of this story. They make me feel, they make me connect with the characters, and they grow as people.
I'll continue writing action because it's fun and, I think, an integral part of the story. I'll keep trying to get better at that just like everything else. But I think it's important to say the key to what makes A Hero's Story, A Hero's Story, and the key to what makes Damon, Nate, Brenda, Cass, and everyone else who they are is what kind of people they are, how they interact, and how they grow. Besides… if you don't like emotional moments, you probably didn't like this chapter and you definitely won't like the next one. That's fine, you're free to have your opinions on the story and I welcome feedback.
So that was pretty long-winded but I wanted to get that out. The review made me think and this is what happens when I think. I'll see everyone next time.
Next Chapter: 6/21, Acceptance